Hearing Tang San's words, Tang Hao froze for a moment. Amid his bewilderment, a trace of warmth rose in his heart:
"What are you talking about? You make it sound like I want to die. If I could live, who would want to die? I'm not an idiot."
"What are you standing there for? Hurry up and help me lie down. Do you expect me to sit on the bed hunched over while talking to you? Hiss—"
Tang Hao's body was still far too weak. His injuries were so severe that even sitting caused him excruciating, piercing pain.
If he kept sitting like this, he would probably faint from the pain.
"Oh, right, sorry, Father. I forgot."
Tang San hurried forward and helped Tang Hao lie down as instructed.
Only after lying flat on the bed, with his body fully relaxed and no longer under strain, did Tang Hao finally feel a brief moment of relief.
Tang Hao looked at Tang San. Though his gaze still seemed somewhat strange, it had softened considerably:
"Xiao San, more than seven years have passed. Do you hate me for abandoning you and ignoring you all those years?"
Tang San pressed his lips together and shook his head:
"No, I don't."
Tang Hao was somewhat surprised:
"Why?"
A faint smile appeared on Tang San's face:
"Because I have no right to blame you. I am your son, and you gave me my life. Without you, how could there be a Tang San?"
"Father, I don't hate you. On the contrary, I'm very grateful to you. You gave me a father, allowed me to experience a father's love, and let me feel the warmth of family."
He actually took the harsh way I treated him back then as fatherly love? Tang Hao looked deeply at